


The Noble House of Elliot

by Kissed_by_Circe



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Baptism, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissed_by_Circe/pseuds/Kissed_by_Circe
Summary: All the different ways the story of the Eliot family could’ve gone, told through family functions such as weddings, funerals, and baptisms. Basically snippets of several AUs :)
Relationships: Anne Elliot/Frederick Wentworth, William Elliot/Penelope Clay
Kudos: 10





	The Noble House of Elliot

**Author's Note:**

> My personal headcannon for _Persuasion_ has always been that Anne and Frederick lead a comfortable life _far away from Kellynch_ , and that Mrs Clay manages to marry either Sir Walter or Mr Elliot lol.

_May 1815_

_The line added to the baronetage on a warm, yet cloudy spring day is written in Sir Walter's elegant script, and on paper his marriage to his distant cousin, the Honourable Miss Carteret, daughter of the late Viscount Dalrymple, does make a fine impression, but those who are present at his second wedding, and still remember the first, cannot help but notice how pale and shy and awkward his bride, younger than even his youngest daughter by a few years, is, and how he keeps mentioning his despised heir and his hope for a son throughout the wedding breakfast, and hope that he will get what he wishes for from this marriage._

October 1817

The air is clear and crisp on the day that marks the baptism of little John William Elliot in the old parish church of Kellynch, and Elizabeth fumes as her father writes down the date of his heir's son, because in her daydreams, she's the one on William's arm, holding a babe as beautiful as herself, but instead it's Penelope, of all people, radiant in her glow of motherhood, with a red-faced, red-haired infant in her arms, three surprisingly pretty children clinging to her skirts, and a handsomely dark husband by her side, who gracefully receives all the well wishes and who smirks when people already call her Lady Elliot, while Elizabeth herself sees the months go by and her beauty fade.

_July 1815_

_All of Lady Russell's dreams come true on a day as warm and sunny as her spirit, and she does not notice how her God daughter's hand shakes as she notes down the date of her wedding in the baronetage, because her happiness at seeing her favourite, the picture of her late best friend, finally joined in marriage, and to her father's heir no less, to soon resume her rightful place as Kellynch's mistress and have a family of her own, outweighs everything else._

April 1814

Heavy rain falls into the open grave, the mood at the churchyard quite befitting the prospects of Elizabeth, who now bitterly remembers the surge of hope she had felt a week prior, when news of a death at the other Elliot household had reached them, and who had, as silly and petty as it may seem now, hoped that Mrs Elliot had perished in childbirth at last, and that Mr Elliot might be free again, only to be told that it was Mr Elliot himself, who had taken ill and died, while his widow is as healthy and robust as ever. At least they only have girls so far, which means that, unless Mrs Elliot delivers her late husband a posthumous son, someone else is the new heir, and before the service is even over, Elizabeth already thinks about gowns and powders, family trees and distant relations, hoping that she might have a chance at a suitable match at last.

_January 1820_

_The gentle warmth of Mrs Croft’s smile as she cradles the baby against her chest might melt the ice and snow outside the little church, but the faces of little Sophia’s other relatives aren’t anywhere near as relaxed as her god aunt’s. The current Elliots of Kellynch Hall, as well as Lady Russell, keep glaring at Mr and Mrs Elliot across the pews, and while her Wentworth and Musgrove relations smile amiably, her other aunts look on sourly, still insulted at being passed over as namesakes, and once again Frederick is glad to have relocated his family to Lyme._

April 1815

The aisle of Kellynch’s church is basked in colourful lights from the stained glass windows, pride is written on her father’s face, and Mr Elliot, dark, handsome, controlled, and the heir to the estate and title, awaits her at the altar. It’s not what Penelope’s original plan had looked like, William is certainly not Sir Walter, and he had proven to be more difficult than his older cousin when it came to securing this match, but she is, after all, a widow, a mother, and a lawyer’s daughter, and she certainly knows what it means to marry either of the two. Now she is Mrs Elliot, future mistress of Kellynch Hall, with a position, a father for her children, and financial stability, and not even Elizabeth glowering at her from the family pew can stop her triumphant smile.

_September 1809_

_Anne looks across the pews to where Charles Musgrove sits, surrounded by at least half a dozen of his younger siblings, and when he smiles at her, she hastily turns around, and goes back to petting little Catherine’s hair, in a futile attempt to get the child to be quiet during the service. Her sister’s marriage to William has produced five girls so far, each one of them with more out of control than the last, with the youngest being christened today, and between the ruckus of the young children, Elizabeth’s nerves and new wrinkles, and William’s temper, Anne is no longer sure if she can simply leave her family, nor if she ever wants one of her own._

March 1815

In the end, it is not Elizabeth's pettiness or the Clay children's fussing, nor Mr Elliot's attempts at sabotaging their union that puts a strain on the wedding of Sir Walter and Penelope, but Mary's loud declaration that, six months from now, there will be another celebration, another addition to the family, a christening to be had, placing a hand on her own middle and not noticing how her sisters wince or how her new stepmother pales. Mr Elliot all but storms out, Mr Shepherd almost chokes on his wine, and when Frederick quietly asks Anne if they can spend Christmas in Shropshire, she agrees.

_December 1817_

_Elizabeth may be vain, uncaring and on the wrong side of thirty, but she is still beautiful and still young enough to give him an heir, and he may be a few years older than her own father, gouty and grey-haired, but he is a baronet and has a stately home, and so an agreeable match is made. When she writes down the name of her groom in the family chronic, Elizabeth leaves out the part where she acquires five grown-up stepdaughters and more than a dozen step grandchildren, and practices her new signature instead._

November 1816

A storm rages outside the lead framed windows, a sharp contrast to the controlled face and dry cheeks of Anne as she marks down the day and month of her father’s death, her script neat and legible under his, and as she waits for the ink to dry, she wonders what else will be added to these pages, under her own marriage, thinking of the growing herd of children Mr Elliot and the former Mrs Clay will bring into these halls, and the baby that grows under her own heart, and will be called after his great-grandfather or her paternal aunt. Realistic as she is, she doubts that a marriage of Elizabeth’s will be recorded in this book, as her sister is, as they all are aware, not willing to settle for anyone less than a baron now, and so, after a moment’s hesitation, she draws two lines under their part of the chronicle, that Sir William may write his own additions for himself.

* * *

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End file.
